


Lost in you

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-25
Updated: 2004-06-25
Packaged: 2018-05-31 10:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6466876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wesley tries to come to terms with loosing Fred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost in you

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

She smells the same. She looks the same. She _feels_ the same.   
Are you shocked?  
No one was more shocked than I, but more about that later.

I can’t breathe, my heart is dead, so, why am I still here, and why am I still alive. Alas, my heart continues to beat and my lungs continue to fill with air. I am in hell. 

The one thing, the one person that made my life mean anything has gone and she is not coming back. 

Why did she have to be so curious? I think I hate her a little for that. I want to hate her for leaving me, leaving me when she had only started to love me. It isn’t enough. 

I wish I could have died with her. I wish I could have taken the journey with her, but No. As usual, I have to suffer this endless nightmare alone. My reward for helping to save the world is death. I knew that redemption was going to be hard, I was prepared to fight the good fight until my very last breath, but now I have nothing to fight for. Without her by my side, everything I do is for nothing. 

She is speaking to me, the woman I love. She speaks to me. It isn’t Fred, it’s the shell. Illyria. 

I haven’t been to work in days. I presume that Angel has jammed my answering machine with messages. He worries. He is suffering too, but I can’t deal with all of that right now. Fred’s phone has been ringing off the hook. Her machine is also full of messages, mainly from her parents. Fred used to call them every couple of days and now, lack of contact has made them worry. One of Fred’s final wishes was that I spoke to them and told them how brave she was, that she didn’t suffer before she died. That it was quick. She was a superhero. She was my hero. I can’t bring myself to do it, I just can’t. I don’t want to admit that she is gone. God, I miss Fred so very much. 

The clone comes to me at night. She continues to ask questions that I cannot bear to answer. She stands in the darkness where only enough light manages to filter through which outlines the shell. It’s Fred every time, but it’s not really you. Sometimes the urge to reach out becomes too demanding, I have faltered only once. Please forgive me. I’m damned already. Judas cannot hold a torch to me. I am the betrayer. 

Another night filled with Whiskey another night filled with grief. Illyria came to me with open arms. She has been using television and books to get a better grip and understanding on humanity, love and irritatingly, the act of love making. She used to be a God of Gods and now she finds herself unable to grasp anything human. Illyria manipulates the way she looks. Her hair turns to dark brown as do her eyes. Her voices changes. She talks like Fred. I took what I needed and gave Illyria what she wanted – a night of ragging passion. 

Now, when the whiskey kicks in and I loose all sense of myself, I can only then, fall into a state of unconsciousness and reminisce that night. Her lips on mine, the eagerness of every touch. Fred and I never got the opportunity to be with each other and selfishly, I took the one chance that was never presented to me when she was alive. I hate myself. I hate myself because I know that, soon, I will falter once more. 

I am dreaming. I must be. Fred is calling to me. I can hear her so loudly, but I cannot see her. I try to run to where she may be, but my legs do not move. I know that I will loose her if I do not find her. I cry out for help, but no one answers. No one is around and I am standing alone. I always know where I am, it is my particular skill. 

I have become so used to these dreams, these nightmares that I no longer awake with a fright. I used to at the very beginning, just after Fred died in my arms. I’d come out of my unconscious state gasping for breath and in turn, screaming for Fred. I cannot even save my Fred is my dreams. Despite what events had to occur for Fred to die, the part Gunn played, what Knox managed to do, I have come to believe that it was destined. I should have saved her, we should have saved her. I promised, Angel promised, everyone promised. What a disappointment we all are, especially me. My Father always said I was, now after years of trying to disprove him, I have handed him my failures on a plate. Well done Wesley. 

Illyria stands by the full length mirror at the corner of my room. She always stands there. She patiently waits while I sleep. This morning however she surprises me by standing there naked. God, she is beautiful. I look at her and deny to myself that it’s anyone but Fred. I feel aroused at the sight of her and annoyingly, Illyria knows this and has planned it. She asks me if I will ever love her. Damn her. She knows too well to bring back the exact words that Fred said to me, so she has now begun to manipulate them ever so slightly. She is cruel, but, I feel myself giving in. She knows I am in agony and the release, though only momentarily, brings me a little happiness. 

Illyria doesn’t reject me when I stand behind her. I am wearing only boxers and my arousal is obvious to her. I wrap my arms around the shell and try to imagine Fred’s warmth. I cry uncontrollably and Illyria lets me. She is probably disgusted by this whole act, but fascinated as well. She wants to understand me. For the second time in 24 hours, we make love. Illyria must have gone over, in her mind the night before and seemed to improve on the awkwardness she showed when I took what I needed. Illyria was guiding me and I felt ashamed, but, I didn’t care. I don’t care, not anymore. 

It’s been a month now. A month since my beloved died in my arms. I am sure many people would love to be in my shoes. To have back what they once lost. I wish I could loose again what I have lost before. 

I have become addicted to Illyria. She has become my escape. An illusion that I cannot let go off. So much for Watchers Academy Training. One of the first things I was supposed to learn was to separate truth from Illusion. To never live the lie. I thought I had learnt that lesson many years ago, but in truth, I am only learning it now. 

What a laughing stock I am. I am weak, I am a failure. I am nothing. 

Fred is calling me back to bed. I no longer see Illyria, only Fred. I am obsessed and she knows it. She places this to her advantage and I bend to her wishes. 

I want to remain like this forever…but, in my heart, deep down, I know I am better than this. I am stronger than this and I am more than what I have become. 

Just one more night. One more night and I will be Wesley again. 


End file.
